


En Garde, Baby!

by SatiricalDraperies



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Banter, F/F, Femslash, Fencing, Flirting, Kissing, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatiricalDraperies/pseuds/SatiricalDraperies
Summary: “Don’t worry,” Beatrice says, her eyes sparkling. She backs up out of the armory and draws Ava out into the center of the sparring circle. “I’ll go easy on you.”“Don’t hold back now,” Ava grins, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She tries to imitate Beatrice’s posture, bending her knees and holding her blade out in front of her. “En garde, baby!”
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 24
Kudos: 447
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	En Garde, Baby!

“So,” Ava says, running her fingers along the edge of a thin blade. “Do you know how to use this one?”

“Hmm?” Beatrice is too engrossed with taking stock of the armory to look at Ava.

Ava lifts the blade from its place on the wall. She grips it in her fist and swings it experimentally. It’s much lighter than the Cruciform Sword and, if Ava’s being honest, prettier too. The graceful steel guard curves around her hand, creating the illusion that the blade is growing out of her skin. 

She pulls the blade in towards her body and points it towards the ceiling before swooping it out in an exaggerated flourishing salute. 

“My lady,” she says, lowering her voice and dropping into a bow before Beatrice.

Beatrice turns and hides a giggle when she sees Ava wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Your form’s all wrong,” she says. “Here, let me show you.”

“So you do know how to fight with this!” Ava crows.

“It’s a fencing sabre,” Beatrice explains. “Not too useful against demons, but a good weapon nonetheless.” 

She puts down her inventory forms and walks to stand beside Ava, who’s waving the blade around with a look of awe painted across her face. Beatrice smiles and shakes her head. Ava is holding the grip with a tight fist and her wrist is bent horribly. It can’t be comfortable.

“Hold it lightly, with your fingers placed like this,” she takes hold of Ava’s hand and maneuvers it into place. “Don’t squeeze too tightly.”

Ava takes a deep breath and tries to loosen up. She flexes her fingers slightly around the grip and rolls her wrist before settling into a natural position. 

“Okay,” she says under her breath. “I can do this.”

Beatrice smirks. “Think you’re ready to give it a try?”

“Yeah! I mean, yeah, yeah, we can give it a go.” Ava’s babbling again. It certainly doesn’t help that Beatrice’s fingers are still touching hers and Ava can feel her steady presence over her shoulder.

Beatrice walks over to the wall and picks up another sabre. She considers it for a moment, angling it and cutting through the air at imaginary enemies. For a moment Ava just stops and stares. There’s a grace to Beatrice’s strength. Every move she makes has a sense of purpose behind it. 

It’s beautiful to watch.

“Don’t worry,” Beatrice says, her eyes sparkling. She backs up out of the armory and draws Ava out into the center of the sparring circle. “I’ll go easy on you.”

“Don’t hold back now,” Ava grins, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She tries to imitate Beatrice’s posture, bending her knees and holding her blade out in front of her. “En garde, baby!”

Beatrice shakes her head and blocks Ava’s initial strike easily. 

“You’re broadcasting your every move,” she calls out. “The key word here is _subtlety_.”

“You know I’m no good at that!”

Beatrice raises an eyebrow in agreement. She makes an overexaggerated feint to Ava’s left. When she moves her blade to try and block the blow, Beatrice twists her wrist to lightly strike the edge of her weapon against the right side of Ava’s rib cage. 

“Pay attention,” Beatrice says. “Don’t flinch.”

“Easy for you to say when there isn’t an insanely strong nun pointing a sword at you,” Ava mutters. 

She tries a new tactic, leveling her blade with the ground and lunging directly at Beatrice’s heart. Beatrice moves back elegantly, scooping her blade under Ava’s and pushing it away from her body. She extends her arm and taps the inside of Ava’s forearm. 

“Touché,” Ava says, grinning at her.

“Is that all you know about fencing?” Beatrice teases. “En garde and touché?”

“Why don’t you come over here and teach me more?”

Ava’s up to something. When isn’t she up to something? Beatrice advances towards her anyways, watching the shifting weight in her hips and the tensing in her shoulders. Once Beatrice is within lunge distance, Ava closes the distance between them, charging directly into her. Beatrice rises out of her guard and lowers her arms. Ava’s face is right there, her chin proudly jutted out only inches from Beatrice.

Ava smirks. “Now who’s teaching who?”

“You still have a lot to learn,” Beatrice says. She tilts her head down and leans in, her lips barely ghosting over Ava’s. “For instance, don’t ever let your guard down.”

She easily takes Ava’s sabre out of her loosened grip and steps back, crossing the two weapons in front of Ava’s neck. Ava bites her lip and looks down at the blades in front of her. She raises her gaze to look straight into Beatrice’s eyes and Beatrice fears she may have miscalculated.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling.

“I have you right where I want you,” Ava says, her voice full of bravado.

“And where’s that?” Beatrice asks, playing along. She considers Ava’s posture: her feet wide and evenly set, her chest puffed out, her arms hanging loosely by her side. 

“With your guard down.”

Ava wraps her hands around each of the blades, not squeezing tightly enough to draw blood. She pushes them apart and steps into the space created. They let go of the weapons at the same time, Beatrice gently holding onto Ava’s hips and Ava cradling Beatrice’s face in her hands. Beatrice doesn’t even register the clang of steel on the stone floor. She’s too preoccupied with other, more important things.

The faint pulsation of Ava’s heartbeat in her lips and fingertips. The soft inhale she takes before pressing her mouth against Beatrice’s even more insistently. The moan she makes when Beatrice pulls their hips flush together.

Kissing Ava is nothing like fencing. Beatrice likes it anyways.

“We should do this more often,” Ava says as they pull apart. She rests her forehead against Beatrice’s.

“Fencing?” Beatrice teases. 

“If it leads to this? Absolutely.”

“I suppose you can never know too many weapons,” Beatrice says. “Even if your techniques are a little… unorthodox.”

“Whatever works,” Ava smiles.

Beatrice grins and kisses her again. 

“I know a great teacher,” she says. “She’ll get you in shape in no time.”

“Is she pretty?” Ava asks. “I bet she’s real pretty.”

“You flirt,” Beatrice shoves her playfully. 

“You didn’t say she wasn’t!” Ava elbows her back. 

“Come on, help me finish up this inventory. Then we can keep… fencing,” she raises an eyebrow suggestively as she picks up the fallen sabres and heads back into the armory.

Ava’s face lights up. “Lead the way!”


End file.
